


We Were the Fallen Stars

by nyleskies (112ance)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fucking Around with Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural Elements, bcs the author writes hella slowly, hella slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/112ance/pseuds/nyleskies
Summary: For some reason, they happened to be in the right place at the right time.Both in nightmares, and in realities.
Relationships: Warren Graham/Nathan Prescott
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. When We Crossed Paths

A storm was coming.

And it was safe to say that _they were all going to die_.

High-speed winds whipped at the trees and whatever was light enough for them to carry. Rainwater spluttered in a confusing order like the water from a hose carried around by a rabid dog. In the distance, the lighthouse was practically untouched, as if it were looking over the sea and anticipated the arrival of the ravaging vortex.

Ominosity loomed everywhere Nathan looked.

Ignoring the fear screaming inside his head and gripping at the remaining bits of his strength, he treaded on, using both his arms to shield his face from the water like pinpricks on his skin. That probably wasn’t a good idea since hundreds upon hundreds of needles felt like they were pricking his skin, but it was better than losing his way and tumbling down the steep hill. Weaker trees were uprooted from the sheer force of the weather, crashing onto the path laid out leading to the lighthouse. Places to go were diminishing like the mere minutes the tornado had left before raining Hell down Arcadia Bay.

He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t amuse him. Long has he wished for this shithole to be obliterated. 

But what the _fuck_ was going on?

The lighthouse was mere yards away. He didn’t know why every cell in his body urged him to go, but he obliged as the feeling in his stomach told him it was of utmost importance. He just—had to make it there. Not that he cared if it would be safe or not, but just please, let him make it.

He reached a clearing in the trees as he ascended the slope. A bench overlooking the shoreline below sat unscathed, except for its wood and metal gone through wear and tear that got soaked by the spraying water. The peaking plateau of the overlook slowly unraveled that of the sheer terror nature could bring upon the face of the Earth.

There the tornado was—a raging, gargantuan twister of winds ready to annihilate all that crossed its path.

He carded his fingers through his hair, desperate to believe that the action was as simple as shuffling a deck of cards to restart this mess he had no idea how he got into. When that wasn’t enough, he tugged at them hard enough to threaten the strands to rip out from his scalp.

 _It’s just a dream,_ he helplessly said to himself. _It’s just a dream, Nathan. It’s not real. You’re going to wake up, on your bed, and everything would be okay. Just count to three. One… two…_

On _three_ , any attempt to chant that he hoped nothing would go wrong cracked into pieces beyond his capacity to fix. The idea of the lighthouse being sturdy in the midst of this disaster was blown away as lighting struck its gallery. It broke off and tumbled to the side.

Next thing he knew when he looked up, it was closing in on him.

He thought he heard something among the death and destruction. Before the darkness took him. A voice, far away behind him, yelling—

  


* * *

  


“Look out!”

Warren cried out as loud as his voice could. But it was useless.

He was too far away to get to them.

Reaching out, he gripped at the thin air.

Just like the mist, they could no longer be seen as the structure that tore off the lighthouse brought them upon a great deal of bane.

Anguish felt like it shred Warren’s throat. He couldn’t even hear himself scream. 

Questions were left unanswered.

Who were they?

And why did Warren feel like his heart was splitting in two?

  


* * *

  


Sweat soaked Nathan’s shirt and seeped through his black cardigan. He breathed quickly and shallowly as if his body needed all the oxygen around him, hands white-knuckling his blanket and sheets. It was odd how he was cold, and yet he could feel the sweat drip from his forehead.

This was just one of many nightmares he’d have and continue having. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He hugged his knees close and buried his face into them. A handful of things he couldn’t count on his fingers bothered him, but this reoccurring nightmare occupied every vacant space in his already loaded mind.

What the _fuck_ did that tornado mean? Where did it come from? When was it going to happen? Why did he keep seeing it?

How… how was it that he—he saw himself—

His hands burrowed into his hair. The combination of his heart pounding in his ears and the cacophony of incoherent chatter that went nowhere in his head was not a good one.

_Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4… hold for 7 seconds… out through the mouth for 8. Alright. Fuck. Okay. You’re okay, Nathan. Again. Breathe in…_

The breathing exercises helped, to say the least. Didn’t do shit to his anxiety that was still suffocating him and freezing him solid on his bed, though. The doubt and fear of his cluelessness at the situation made him shudder as he grabbed fresh clothes from his closet. 

Showering always helped to clear his mind. At least, in that moment, he hoped it would.

  


* * *

  


Warren was going bonkers.

At least he thought he was.

He took a moment to compose himself. Placing a hand on his chest, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He had dreams like that in the past, but they would always be too blurry and hazy for him to remember when he woke up. That was just a dream, right?

It made him skeptical because it wasn’t like any of those typical, vague and foggy dreams—it honest-to-god felt so _real._

The questions raced like bunnies against his mind that operated like a snail; too fast for him to comprehend and to catch up to. Why was he dreaming of a tornado destroying Arcadia Bay? Was that real or was he just being paranoid?

If— _if_ it was coming… when would it reach land?

What—or _who_ —was that?

Did they—no. Would they— _Fuck._ Were they…?

His mind lingered to the worst of possibilities. He never saw their face. Their body was covered from head-to-toe in black clothing. Was that someone he knew? They looked to be around his age, maybe older. Did they also go to Blackwell? Did they even _live_ in Arcadia Bay?

Half an hour passed from trying to find an answer for those questions, but Warren just ultimately failed. He didn’t even notice it. But he was willing to take all the time in the world.

He squeezed his eyes shut, silently praying the thoughts would just go away. Not very convincing nor effective as it still floated around his headspace and rocked his mind, but it was better than nothing. Anyway, his first class would start at 10 AM, and it was still 9:50… AM…

_Oh, for the love of—_

He jerked upright and practically flung himself off his bed, catching his blanket midair and setting it back down again. Clutter was littered all over his floor, and even though he tripped on one of his text books, he’d have to organize his room later because he’d rather bathe in hydrochloric acid than to see Ms. Grant’s face of disappointment if she knew he was late on the first day of the week.

How the hell did he not wake up to his alarm?

Changing out of his pajamas in record time, jumping into a new pair of pants (that weren’t actually new, but nobody had to know that he only wore them once last week) and throwing on a black shirt with stripes and a bright blue one right across his chest underneath a yellow sweatshirt was a must.

Style wasn’t exactly what he cared about because this exact formula of clothing was easy to put on, and it kept him comfortably warm without needing too many layers.

A bit of cheap cologne behind his ears and elbows that made him smell fresh and clean—kind of like a citrus-y fragrance—he’d mask the scent of yesterday’s hard work and effort getting supplies and levelling up in WoW in no time.

He tossed his pajamas to his laundry basket. The top didn’t make it and fell to the floor like a plant stem that shriveled up and died, but he’ll tend to it later. 

Cupping water from his water bottle, he poured it on his hair. It wasn’t as good as a full-body shower, but it helped to manage his bedhead because the last thing he wanted to do was to make it obvious that he didn’t quite wake up on time. Plus, he wanted to look presentable—not a loser.

Thanking the gods that he thought about preparing his school stuff the night before, he grabbed his phone from his bed and slung his bag over his shoulder. He casted one last glance at his room to make sure he didn’t forget anything while he slipped on his shoes, and once he was certain, he quickly locked the door behind him and pocketed his dorm keys. 

He almost crashed into someone emerging from the boys’ bathroom—luckily, he swerved out of the way, but he couldn’t bother to know who it was as he made a beeline to the exit.

 _Of course,_ he forgot to brush his teeth, but he decided against going back to the dorms after sighing to himself. He could just do it after Ms. Grant’s class.

  


* * *

  


If missing a toothbrushing session wasn’t enough, slipping on the floor Samuel was mopping and having the contents of his bag spill out apparently was just the start of Warren’s wonderful day. His ass hurt, his bag was apparently unzipped, and the sniggers that passed him by suddenly made him want the walls of Blackwell crush him so he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.

He got to his first class on time (thank heavens). Fortunately, everything so far beyond that class went pretty smoothly, but the period before his Science class, it suddenly occurred to him that he had a Physics test that day, and so, he ended up staying so late in his previous class studying he completely lost track of time.

When he reached the Science Lab, every pair of eyes in the room looked at him that he felt like he just said that Marvel was shit and that DC was better.

Or, you know. Something like that.

Here came the explanation for being roughly ten minutes late. He was heaving pretty heavily, but he hoped she wouldn’t notice. “Miss Grant, I’m sorry I was late, I can explain—”

“Now, what did I tell you about playing your video games the night before a test?” asked Miss Grant, raising a questioning eyebrow. Oh, no. He definitely knew what that meant. 

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, trying for a futile attempt at an excuse. “I, uh—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, you know better than trying to deny it, Warren.”

He chuckled nervously. “Right. I’m sorry about that, Miss Grant.”

“ _Uh, huh._ Well, I’m going to need to talk to you about it after class. Take your seat for now.”

He wanted nothing more than to just let a supernatural phenomenon take him right then and there. Or wish that his Biology textbook would open up and swallow him whole like the Monster Book of Monsters in Harry Potter. Not that he was particularly fond of the series—but it was interesting to learn about things that science otherwise couldn’t explain. He preferred the events that had an explanation, though.

Now that he thought about it, asking for a _supernatural phenomenon_ to take him was… ominous, considering he just had a nightmare about a giant tornado headed straight for the town.

On second thoughts, bathing in hydrochloric acid was no better, but he’d take it.

Or just… none of that. That’s… that was definitely better.

He sighed, letting his shoulders droop towards his open textbook. Chemistry was both his selling and turning point. He knew how to craft firecrackers, brew stink bombs, concoct itch powders—heck, he had an entire arsenal just underneath his bed in the suitcases he secured below. He could probably infiltrate and rob a bank if he so desired. But that wasn’t how he was raised, so the thought of actually _doing_ it never crossed his mind. It was just a fun thing to imagine sometimes.

Then again, he had more important matters to deal with. Like, actually, and _genuinely_ acing the class. And all the other classes he had. And not disappointing Miss Grant any more.

Yeah. That was something he could do.

  


* * *

  


You know what Nathan could do? Actually get a damn break, for once. Especially after the nightmare of seeing his fate, a fucking storm that’d come on God-knows-when, whether that shitstorm was even _legit_ , and he was still debating whether or not he knew that— _whoever_ that was with him in the nightmare, and whether he wanted to know who they were. Or why they were even there in the first place.

But the Universe wasn’t so kind. 

**[Price, 3:04 PM]**

> we need 2 talk asshole
> 
> u know where to meet me

Fucking Chloe Price. Of course she wouldn’t get off his dick after he fucked up. But that wasn’t her fault. It was all his. And yet, Nathan had the audacity to get infuriated by that. At her.

The plan was simple: drug her, take a few pictures, and send her off to her merry way after he got what he wanted. 

But that whore was smart. She spiked his drink. After that, naturally, things went downhill. From a hundred to zero, declining quicker than he could ever anticipate to take control of. 

Just his fucking luck.

He couldn’t even redeem himself after completely blowing his chances of success with Kate. That plan was also supposed to go the same as it did with Chloe, and while it _did_ —he completely bombed it. 

Well, shit. He didn’t know people were going to fucking record videos of her sucking face with those dudes. And even if he did, he doubted he could take the upper hand of the situation. Money could only blackmail people so far.

Two fuck-ups in a row. Fan-fucking-tastic. He would never be as good world-famous, professional photographer, Mark Jefferson.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be, though. He’d seen him in action. Even did the dirty work for the bastard.

He won’t deny the fact that he has been seeing a therapist for the last five years. Nor would he refuse to acknowledge that he didn’t actually listen to any of them. It pissed off his father, and to him, nothing else was better than getting back at that old asshole than by wasting his time and money. Considered it a ‘therapy’ of some sort. 

He also… didn’t want to deny that he _did_ want to get better, but his father, being the piece of shit he was and always will be, liked the therapists who’d keep him doped up on pills. Kept him away from the people who gave him a semblance of what it was like to be treated with human decency. Always made him feel as though he wasn't worth anybody's love or affection. _Fuck that._

But whatever the damn hell Mark Jefferson did in the Dark Room, there was no excuse for it. It was, for a lack of a better term in Nathan’s vulgar vocabulary— _fucked up_. Sick to the core. 

Sometimes, Nathan blamed himself for it. 

All because he wanted private lessons about photography.

Snapping out of his stupor, he glanced at the wall clock. It wouldn’t be long before it read 4 PM. The ticking of the clock sounded amplified, the noise urging Nathan to lose his composure with every tock. He wished he could take it from where it was perched on the wall, and listen to the satisfying sound of its plastic and mechanical parts breaking into uncountable, hazardous bits. He wanted to. The more seconds passed by, the more it itched to.

Four minutes left. The gun felt as though it were getting lighter as it sat on his jacket, all while weighing exactly the same. Weird. He couldn’t recall whether it was loaded or not, or if the safety was on or off. 

_Whatthefuckever_. Once she saw it, he’d throw in a few threats here and there, and he wouldn’t have to use it. He didn’t plan on wasting a bullet. He’s no murderer. Unless she pushed him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to pull that shit on the bitch if it meant she would stay the fuck away from him. 

Two minutes left. His leg bounced in agitation. His head swam in what felt like a murky bog of foul and nasty rumination that had accumulated over the years of his miserable life.

When the bell rang, he headed straight for the door. The professor was spewing some bullshit about closing remarks and dismissal and, if Nathan being honest, he couldn’t care less. They have homework? Who gave a shit. Nobody wanted to do homework, and if they did—then he wouldn’t be labelled as a crazy, psychotic freak. It was all in their happy profiles whenever class ended with no take-home activities and in the way their faces dropped when there was.

The teacher knew better than to question him about it, though. At least someone was aware of what the Prescotts could do, and he had to say, good on the professor for minding her own damn business.

As he neared the girls’ bathroom—which was where that lying, manipulative, blue-haired punk wanted to meet—he felt around his jacket for his gun. He had to admit to knowing the dangers of carrying one around, but nothing else made him feel safer than wearing his signature red varsity that nestled a firearm.

That was, until he pulled out the fabric for his varsity’s pocket.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake—_

Sure. That’s great. Just fucking beautiful. Not only did he forget his gun, he also forgot to take his fucking meds. His own goddamn brain, which was supposed to know how to keep him safe, instead filled his pockets with false hope and sense of safety.

He gritted his teeth hard enough that his jaw threatened to lock in place. He turned on his heel and broke out into a sprint to the boys’ dormitories. 

God, he hoped he could grab his gun before that bitch arrived.

  


* * *

  


Before the bell rang, Ms. Grant had excused herself to take a very important phone call.

When the bell rang, Ms. Grant caught Warren heading out, and grabbed him by his forearm before he got any farther.

“Warren, I’m sorry, honey, but we still need to talk,” she reminded, cupping a hand over the phone’s mic. That’s right, they still had to discuss why he was late. Warren picked on his cuticles a little. “I’ll be in the courtyard. Don’t you forget, or I’ll hunt you down myself.”

He took note of that, sending an awkward smile along her way. He’d just think about it when they meet, he supposed. Thank goodness for that call and Ms. Grant because _Warren really needed to pee._

He was pissed (pun intended, he joked), or _furious_ because he could not laugh right now, otherwise he wouldn’t need the bathroom anymore because then he’d welcome his untimely demise of making a pee spot right where he was standing.

Who in their right minds would lock the boys’ bathroom? Was the privacy of the stalls not enough for them?

Oh, God, he was one step closer to just going ham on the floor when he heard the sweet, _sweet_ sound of Stella’s voice.

“Hey, Warren!” She approached him, smiling brightly and Warren watched it fall when she saw the state he was in. “Woah, you look kind of pale. You feeling okay there?”

Warren gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I just… really, _really_ need to pee.”

“Oh, snap.” She tried the doorknob behind him, and it didn’t budge. “Yep. You’re screwed.”

He groaned impatiently, and well, painfully. “Stella…”

“Wait.” She held a hand up. “I got an idea. But you’re probably not going to like it.”

He shrugged. “Shoot. YOLO, am I right?”

“See that?” She pointed at the door opposite to where they stood.

Warren’s eyes widened at the realization. “No, no, no no no, you must be joking, that—” He shook his head determinedly, heat creeping up his nape. “ _That’s the girls’ bathroom!_ ” he whisper-yelled.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. That _is_ the girls’ bathroom,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What, you’ve never done it in the 3 years of your life going to Blackwell, Warren?” She held three fingers up for emphasis.

He pressed his lips together, hopeful she’d get the message. And being the observant gal she was, she did—and just shook her head.

This was so embarrassing. Warren looked around nervously to see if anybody was watching, or was near enough that they could hear their conversation.

“How badly do you need to pee anyway, from 0 to 10?” she asked.

“I’m... at a solid 9.5 here.”

“Then, YOLO, am I right?” she parroted. “What’s the big deal?”

Warren pursed his lips. “I—it’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Stella, if you had no other choice but to go into the boys’, would you do it?”

She gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Sure. I mean, I’ve already done it.”

His mouth hung agape and his eyes blew into saucers. She laughed at his reaction.

“I’m just screwing with you,” she cleared up, shoving him by the arm a little. “ _Maybe_ I’d even show you, but I’d rather not right now because it’s locked.”

Warren scowled at her devilish grin. He loved Stella, but damn, she could be _real_ cheeky sometimes.

“Look, whoever’s in the boys’ bathroom would probably take forever to come out,” she said.

Warren was exasperated. “You’re probably right,” he said, sighing. “I hate it when you’re right, sometimes,” he mumbled.

Stella chuckled, and before she could open her mouth to speak, someone who called out her name grabbed her attention. 

“Oh, that’s Alyssa,” she said. “Sorry, Warren, but I gotta go. See you!”

“Wait, I—”

“You’re a big boy, you can do it! I believe in you!” she remarked, though it didn’t help with Warren’s situation.

He really, _really_ needed to pee.

Sending a praying along God’s way, telling Him that he’ll be in and out of there stat, and also asked Him for strength. He gulped the tension rising in his throat and battled with his conscience, before rushing to the girls’ bathroom.

He really, really hoped nobody saw him come in.

  


* * *

  


God’s good. Nobody was in the bathroom, either.

He made his way to the last stall, mainly out of habit. A sense of relief washed his dread away, and he was more than thankful nothing went wrong.

Yet.

After that, he washed his hands thoroughly and chanted his appreciation in his head when—

Holy shit. Was that a butterfly?

It flapped its mighty blue wings and landed on the bucket next to the used stall, Warren trailing after it.

No way. That’s a Blue Morpho. Those couldn’t be found in Oregon—they weren’t even _native_ to North America. Heck, it’s _October_.

_One in a trillion._

Warren dried his dripping wet hands on his jeans and took out his phone. There was no way he’d pass up an opportunity like this.

The camera flashed. The butterfly flew towards him. With an outstretched finger, he hoped it would try and land on it. Surprisingly enough, it did, and Warren was thrilled enough that he wanted to scream.

But then the door opened, and someone’s footsteps found their way inside.

The butterfly flew away, and settled towards a basin. 

Warren stood frozen in place.

“It’s cool, Nathan.”

_Nathan?_

“Don’t stress. Y-You’re okay, bro. Just—count to three.”

Peeking through the stall tensed Warren’s throat. He gulped, hoping it made no noise.

“Don’t be scared. You _own_ this school. If I wanted, I could blow it up. You’re the boss.”

Nathan Prescott was _right there_ —gaze focused on his hands on the basin. They were shaking.

And if he meant all that—well, shit. Warren made a mental note to himself not to get on his bad side. That was, if they ever crossed paths. Face-to-face.

Apparently, the person who then entered the bathroom didn’t get the memo.

Warren retreated back into hiding.

“So what do you want?” asked Nathan, annoyed.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say,” someone—a girl, Warren observed—said. “Now, let’s talk bidness.”

“I got nothing for you.”

“Wrong. You got hella cash.”

“That’s my family, not me.”

“Oh, _boo-hoo_ , poor little rich kid. I know you’ve been pumpin’ drugs n’ shit to kids around here.”

Drugs? Kids? Here in Blackwell? Warren couldn’t believe what he was hearing, or what was happening. In the last three years he spent in Blackwell, he sort of figured people with the power of money were doing something with it, but he never expected something like… _this._

“I bet your respectable family would help me if I went to them,” she said, tauntingly. “Man, I can see the headlines now.”

“Leave them out of this, bitch,” Nathan warned her, but Warren noticed the slight shake in his voice, indicating fear. He peeked through again, his curiosity getting the better of him and promptly getting anxious about knowing the worst-case scenario possibly coming next.

“I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—”

Warren regretted it instantly when Nathan pulled out a gun from his layers of clothing and threatened the girl with it.

“You don’t know who the fuck I am, or who you’re messing around with!” 

Fuck. Oh, shit, _fuck._ Was that gun loaded?

“Where’d you get that?” The girl faltered, a small tremble in her voice. Nathan trapped her on the wall with his left hand, pressing the gun to her stomach. “What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!”

Damnit—who cares? Warren needed to do something!

“Don’t _ever_ tell me what to do!”

But how could he get Nathan away from her without engaging?

“I’m so _sick_ of people trying to control me!” 

Something red in the corner of Warren’s eye caught his attention.

“You’re going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.”

Warren needed something to break it open, and in those desperate times, the bucket where the butterfly landed in flashed his mind, and it was better than not knowing whether Nathan’s gun would fire or not. 

“Nobody would ever even—”

He positioned the butt of the bucket and aimed right for the glass.

“—miss your ‘punk ass’, would they?!”

It shattered!

Warren slammed the side of his closed fist on the bright red button—and the siren of the fire alarm blared in his adrenaline-induced ears.

“No way…” he heard Nathan say in disbelief.

“Don’t _ever_ touch me again, freak!” The girl shouted, and Warren could barely make out the door clicking open and shutting forcefully.

“Another shitty day,” said Nathan through the earsplitting siren, oblivious to the fact that his day would be even shittier if he found out that Warren— 

Holy mother of non-existent smokes. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe this was real. 

He took his time, taking deep breaths to calm himself down while setting the bucket down as quietly as he could. He knew he couldn’t stay here, otherwise the head of security, David Madsen, would find him. And even if he _did_ manage to not get caught in the meantime, the people who actually had the right to use this bathroom might come in—and he did not want to have to explain what he was doing here. That would be the ultimate recipe for a disastrous time in this school, and in no way did he want to get caught up in any of that for all his years studying at Blackwell. 

“I don’t know about you, Nathan,” he said, more to himself. “But this is pretty fucking insane to me." 

He didn’t know what else to think but the fact that he got to pee before all that, pushing away the incident to the back of his mind to guarantee the prevention of a freak-out moment the second he exited the bathroom. 

His first idea was to just _bolt_ straight for the exit, the door to the Principal’s office zooming past his peripheral vision. Luckily for him, the hall was empty, and his dropping heart jumped back to where it rightfully belonged. Still, he didn’t look up and just kept his head level enough to avoid potential eye contact, but still being able to see where he was going. 

When he got to the door that led to the courtyard, he swung it open—pretending he didn’t hear David Madsen calling to him. Shit. He supposed he was going to deal with it later, if he ever had to. 

_This,_ he lamented, _is going to be one hell of a batshit-crazy week._

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Nor was he aware of this merely being the start. 


	2. These Events Foretold So

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the word count keeps changing, i'm so sorry, holy crow i'm still figuring this fic out, and this chapter is just fleshing certain things out.

It took a minute for Warren to collect himself. Seeing a fellow schoolmate (or classmate? He wasn’t sure if he could consider Nathan as one, considering the number of classes he skipped)—waving a _gun_ around wasn’t exactly something he could simply brush off. After what Nathan had ranted in the bathroom, and with what Warren _saw_ , putting two and two together would give him the last thing he wanted—getting on Nathan’s nerves.

Whoever that girl was—blue hair with that punk rock spirit—Warren thought he might need to know who she was, and introduce himself first.

Which brought something to resurface in his mind. She looked… oddly familiar…

“Warren! There you are,” Ms. Grant’s voice quickly halted the train of thought Warren was on that was ahead of schedule and pumping a crap load of energy in, going at ridiculously high speeds.

“Hey, Miss Grant,” he said, making his way to her while briefly waving a hand and brought it up to his nape. “I guess this is about why I was late earlier?”

“Now that I see you, I think we have more important matters in our hands,” she said.

Warren’s hand stopped rubbing his nape. “What things?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Huh?” He blinked. “No. No ghosts at all, Miss Grant.”

“Then care to explain why your face is paler than usual?” Miss Grant shifted her weight to one side and rested a hand on her lighter hip. Uh, oh. Warren knew what that meant, too. “You know you can always talk to me about anything, Warren.”

The train was back, but it carried a crap ton of panicked thoughts. Warren bit his lip and picked on his cuticles. This was Miss Grant. He could tell her, right?

“Well, it’s…” he began.

But having any of the school staff know would probably put him and everyone he knew on Nathan’s hit list. The last thing he wanted was to put others in danger.

“Yes?” Miss Grant waited.

He sighed through his nose. He had to stall, and a third option presented itself.

And Warren took it, albeit anxiously.

“Miss Grant, if you saw someone you knew had a… well, a _weapon_ of some sort… how—how would you approach them?” He asked, hoping it was subtle enough.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, that depends. That someone could be carrying a weapon around to try and cause somebody harm, but they could also have it to defend themselves in case of an emergency,” she said. Warren was grateful she didn’t beat around the bush.

“Oh,” he let out a noise of agreement. “I didn’t think about that. The protecting themselves bit.”

Self-defense. That made sense. But what or who could harm Nathan that he needed to have a gun on hand?

“Are they a friend of yours?” She asked in return.

“No,” he said. “No, they aren’t. And they, uh—no, no. It’s not—not really related to anybody in real life. Just something I’ve been thinking about.” Very smooth. Like a serrated knife.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “I see. Are you sure about that?”

Warren nodded with a twinge of guilt he hoped would go unnoticed. He wanted to tell her, and he disliked the situation he was in. But he figured telling her the truth wouldn’t go over well.

“Do you want to know the reason why they’re carrying this ‘weapon’ around?” Wow. That made Warren believe for a second she could peer into his mind.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Hm,” she remarked. “Well, I think the best approach would be to stay away from them in the meantime. They could be dangerous for all you know.”

Damn. She had a point. He wrinkled his nose. It wouldn’t be smart to confront Nathan about his gun if he was a potential threat.

Although, a curious—rather, annoyingly obnoxious—part of his brain wanted to know why. And whether that gun was for self-defense or not. Worst-case scenario—homicide.

He would’ve hurt that girl no question if he wanted to raise hell, though. 

And so, Warren leaned more on the self-defense part.

Yet, why?

He let his face fall as the question flashed in his mind. 

“Uh, Miss Grant, but if—and _if_ there was a way for me to get them to open up to me about their reasons for carrying a weapon around, would that even be possible?” 

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I’d say that if you don’t know them that well, but then you truly want to know their reason for carrying one around, then it’s probably best to hear it from them directly,” she told him. “Though, I’d be careful of using that as a conversation starter, especially if you haven’t known them for some time. If talking to them doesn’t work out, then don’t hesitate to stay away, and report it to the authorities. Don’t stand back when you know you can do something about it.”

Warren nodded. Miss Grant surely didn’t know everything, but she sure knew what to answer correctly. “Alright. Thanks, Miss Grant.”

The weight of her hand on his shoulder stopped him just in time to keep him from leaving.

“Now, you can’t just ask me vague but relatively specific questions and just walk away like that, young man,” she said.

The look on her face made Warren feel bad about hiding it from her. He pulled his lips to one of his cheeks and rubbed his forearm with his hand.

“Right. Thank you…?” he said, like a genius moron.

“You said it was no ghost, _and_ you said you have been thinking about this for a while,” she reminded, and Warren pressed his lips together. “Are you sure that’s all?”

He nodded curtly. “Yes. I’m sure. It’s no biggie, Ma’am.”

She looked like she wanted to pry further, but when she let it go, Warren felt so much lighter. “I see. But that’s quite a scenario you’ve thought of. From being your teacher all these years, I know you’d want to think of things in advance to find solutions for them early on. But even then, you have to know your limits, otherwise, it’s going to be too much for you to handle.”

Warren cared a lot about Miss Grant. She reminded him so much of his mother.

“I know, I know. It’s just fun to be curious sometimes,” he said.

And just like with his mother, he would do anything for her. 

“But I’ll keep those in mind, Miss Grant,” he added.

“Alright,” she said, giving him a smile that warmed his heart. ‘That’s what I like to hear. I’ll let you off for being late in my class today. Missing a day won’t make a dent in your persistent hard work.”

“Oh, really?” Warren wiped the back of his head. “Thank you.”

“And you’re always welcome. Now,” she adjusted her stance and held the plastic clipboard closer to her heart. “I’m sure you have places to be, but I will call you when I have something for you.”

Warren nodded. “Noted.”

“I’ll be here waiting for more signatures on surveillance taking over Blackwell. This school better stay a high school, not a high-security penitentiary.”

He chuckled wholeheartedly. “I hear you, Ma’am. I’m sure it’ll be successful, since I think you’re everybody’s favorite teacher,” said Warren, half-joking and half-meaning it.

“I’m pretty sure I’m _your_ favorite teacher, Warren. Everyone else’s favorite is Mark Jefferson, you know that.”

“Hey, I also think you hold your ground pretty well.”

“You flatter me, but you’re not getting extra credit in any of your experiments.”

“Aw. Bummer.” Warren laughed. “I’m just kidding. But you know me. I’m all for the truth, and I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you do,” she smiled back.

He turned away from her, but craned his neck in a way that he could still see her. “Thanks again, Miss Grant. I’ll see you around!”

“Talk to me whenever you want,” she said. “I’ll be here to feed your curiosity.”

Warren chuckled. “And I’ll be sure to keep it coming,” he said, beginning to walk away. “I swear, I won’t let it kill me!”

“It better not.”

And with that, as Warren boarded his thought train, he weighed out his options. When it reached a mildly coherent conclusion in a rather chaotic environment and destination, he supposed it wasn’t worth wasting his time looking after the girl who he had no leads to.

The only exception was the fact that she was part of a bigger, more sinister puzzle Warren wasn’t sure he could even think about piecing together.

A place to start was needed, and the dormitories was as good of a place as any to find Nathan. 

If only…

“ _Would Warren Graham please go to the Principal’s office? Thank you._ ”

…the Principal would know he also had pressing matters to take care of.

Shit. Confronting Nathan would have to wait, he supposed.

  


* * *

  


The first floor of the Prescott dormitories was a cesspool of sweaty jocks of the dipshit kind, namely Logan and Zachary, who were most likely about to practice, judging from the football nestled on the crook of Logan’s arm. There were also the nerds like… that fat kid who drew or something—Nathan didn’t fucking know—and some skater boys who were basically losers. He likely missed a few. 

Didn’t matter, because the Prescotts _owned_ this shithole.

As always, it was uneventful as he made his way to his room, but he’d take it over some bastard getting in the way because he was _really_ riled up right now and he’d rather go to his room no problem than to lose control and bash someone’s face in.

Goddamnit. He was just here fucking minutes ago to grab his forsaken gun. And now, there it was, surely secure in one of the inner pockets of his varsity after pulling it on that punk’s face as a threat. 

Whoever that asshole was who pulled the fire alarm at the coincidental moment, he _had_ to find out. Before all things went to shit.

He entered his room and made the effort of slamming it shut to the point of rattling the walls—before locking it, of course. He threw himself on his bed, body weight reasonably thumping. Stupidly, he groaned in pain when the gun made impact to his side, and promptly placed a hand on the affected area uselessly and adjusted his position.

What the fuck went wrong? Was some bitch hiding behind one of the stalls? So much for “checking the perimeter,” as your step-ass would say, _Price_. There was likely someone in there with them, _even before_ Nathan had gone in, and so, they also heard _everything_. 

Like how Nathan heard the noise shattered glass made before the alarm blared into his ears.

Motherfucking bastard. They needed to be gagged or some shit like that so they won’t say a word of what they saw to anybody.

But Nathan had no, _absolutely_ no idea who the fuck it was. 

Just great. Incredible. Another fuck-up to add to the mound of fuck-ups piling up.

He couldn’t have just one day all to himself, huh? Everything just had to wallow in shit before it could reach his hands.

The skin on his forearms burned. There was a lingering pain in the spots where his closed fist stroke. His arms twitched on impulse. 

Numbers. Counting. Fuck. Right. That was something to calm him down. _1, 2, 3,_ to _7_ or some fucking shit like that. He couldn’t think straight.

He needed a place to start. Looking at the ceiling would give him insight, sure—but not of which one of the girls. 

Although he was, in fact, close with somebody there. 

He shot Victoria a quick text.

  
**[You, 4:49 PM]**

oi can we meet??

**[Victoria, 4:50 PM]**

> sure Nate. why tho???

  


Nathan’s leg bounced in anxiety as he typed out a reply.

  
**[You, 4:51 PM]**

just got smth important i need 2 tell u in private

**[Victoria, 4:51 PM]**

> okay then???? you alright?

**[You, 4:51 PM]**

yea dw im fine

just need 2 tell you smth

**[Victoria, 4:51 PM]**

> okay.
> 
> where are you?

**[You, 4:52 PM]**

in my dorm

  


A beat passed before Nathan’s phone chimed.

  


**[Victoria, 4:55 PM]**

> stay there
> 
> i’ll come to you

  
Two knocks in, and Nathan was up to let Victoria inside.

“Hey, Nate,” Victoria greeted, making her way inside. “What’d you want to talk to me about?”

Before shutting the door, Nathan looked out the hallway to see if there would be anybody that could listen in their conversation. There was nobody, fortunately.

“Nate? You okay?” Victoria asked, a bit worriedly as Nathan glanced out the window to check for any bystanders as well.

“Yeah,” he said, a little too quickly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him questioningly, but sighed ultimately. “Alright. I’ll take your word for it.” She sat on the edge of his bed. “So? What did you want to tell me?”

Nathan cracked his knuckles too much until they hurt a bit as he aligned himself beside her. “It’s more of a question.”

“Go on? C’mon, you’re killing me with the suspense.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Fine, okay. Do you know if any of the girls could be—I don’t know—running their mouths about something or someone?”

Victoria raised an immaculately painted eyebrow. “What kind of a question is that? You worried about what the girls are thinking of you or something?”

“Vic, what the fuck?” Nathan was appalled. “Of course not, Jesus Christ.”

Victoria barked out a laugh. “Kidding. Not really. ‘Cuz, unless…?”

Nathan glared daggers at her. He needed everything but this shit right now. “Just answer the question? Please?”

She waited for her laughter to die down before saying, “Well, I know that Courtney and Taylor would keep their pieholes shut, no problemo. But if you’re asking about someone who _knows_ things or a lot of shit, then Juliet is one of them.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Juliet? Why her? You don’t sound too sure yourself, Vic.”

“For one, she’s a reporter,” she said, scoffing. “Kinda ironic, considering her dumbass has no clue _I’m_ the one sexting Zachary—not Dana.”

Nathan released a breathy chuckle. “Fuckin’ right”, he agreed. He was in on it, too. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, she’s a naïve pea-brained slut who’ll believe in anything you throw at her,” Victoria rolled her eyes. “Some reporter she is. And you know me—I have the hots for the jocks. Besides, I’m having way too much fun fucking around with Zach. Men and their gullibility. So fucking easy.”

“I hear that.”

“Anyway,” she ran a hand through her short, blonde locks in her gorgeous fashion. “It could be Juliet. Or it could be that untalented whore in my photography class, Stella.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Stella?”

“As far as I know, she’s a bland artist with no vision nor talent, and she thinks Mr. Jefferson has any interest in the photo crap she pulls out of her ass.”

The mention of _Jefferson_ made Nathan’s skin crawl, but he willed himself to focus on the conversation. “Mee-yaw, sounds like a catfight is going down.”

“You bet,” Victoria snorted. “We all know Mr. Jefferson would pick _my_ incredible photo for the Everyday Heroes’ Contest.”

Nathan forced a smile. “Oh, I’m sure he will, Vic.”

“ _Duh,_ ” she exaggerated. “It’s also thanks to you, Nate. You help me out a lot, and I learned so much from you.”

Nathan shook his head, trying to jerk away his smile at the compliment. “Anyway, why’d you have shit on Stella again?”

“Ugh, she’s a bitch who likes to stick her nose down gossip,” said Victoria. “She knows better than to try anything on me, but she does know more than she lets on. She wasn’t even involved with Rachel, but she damn well knows a lot of shit about her. The places gossip gets you.”

“Or being a nosy bitch,” supplied Nathan.

“Touché.” 

Stella knew something about Rachel? That alone sent alarms astray in Nathan’s head.

“But Rachel?” he asked. “What the fuck does she know about Rachel?”

Victoria looked at him in disbelief. “Do I look like I hang out with skanky losers like her, and that purple-haired weirdo, Alyssa? Or that slut, Kate?”

So many names of girls Nathan _may_ or may not have been involved in were mentioned quite frequently his fingertips itched to scratch his forearms.

He tried to hide it with a careless shrug and fidgeted with his jacket’s sleeve. “You have a point.”

“You hooking Kate up was hilarious, by the way,” said Victoria. “That was such a _huge_ opportunity for her— _Church Girl Gone Wild; prayer for acting on her sexual urges granted by God Himself; Will bang for Jesus!_ ” She laughed at her comically sarcastic jokes.

Nathan attempted to follow along, but the subject filled him with a great deal of discomfort as he damn well knew that wasn’t all what happened to Kate during the party.

And then it was like they spoke the events brewing in Satan’s asshole.

Something vibrated in Nathan’s back pant pocket.

That wasn’t his _phone_.

“But yeah, your best bets right now are Juliet and Stella,” continued Victoria. “They might tell you some of the loads of shit they know about Blackwell and its students.”

“Guess so,” said Nathan, fiddling around his sleeves more frantically. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He needed to pick up the fucking phone. _Now_.

“Uh, Nate?” Victoria snapped her fingers at him and momentarily brought Nathan back to reality. “I think someone’s calling you.”

“Oh,” he said, pulling out his phone from his front pocket. “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t notice.”

She collapsed the upper half of her body onto his bed. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He kneaded his lips together. “I’ll go outside.”

“What?” She jerked her head upright. “Out—okay.” She sighed, and slumped back down. “Go ahead.”

Nathan bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Vic.”

“C’mon, I’m not going anywhere. Just go.”

Nathan gripped his phone tight, opposite hand on the door knob. 

“But do come back here, okay? You gotta tell me more about it,” she told him.

“Okay. Sure,” Nathan promised her.

And with that, he exited his room, shoving his idle phone back into his front pocket and fished out the nagging vibration his burner phone was emanating in his back pocket.

  


* * *

  


“Uh…” Warren started, not really knowing what to say. “To… What do I owe you the pleasure, Principal Wells?”

“Have a seat,” said the Principal, gesturing to one of the two chairs situated in front of him.

The sunset’s light streamed through the tall glass pane of intricate designs behind him, casting a shadow on his features but not bright enough to bother Warren. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was called here for reasons unknown to him, he would’ve gladly appreciated the office’s interior.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you were called here,” said Wells, and Warren nodded curtly. “On behalf of Mr. Madsen, I have been told of your suspicious behavior at the school halls when the fire alarm went off.”

Cold. That’s how Warren’s blood ran. 

“I do hope you didn’t have anything to do with this incident, as we discovered that this was a false alarm.” He intertwined his fingers and pressed them to his chin. “A student must’ve been responsible for it.”

Warren tried his best to ignore his heart hammering inside his ribcage. “So… just because I was seen walking around suspiciously, that meant _I_ set it off?”

“…We have reasons to believe that so, yes,” said Wells, but his voice was strained. “So, did you have anything to do with the fire alarm, Mr. Graham?”

Warren should’ve thought of this earlier.

Phrases of broken but coherent thought flashed through his mind.

_—dangerous, gun—_

_—don’t want to get on Nathan’s nerves—_

__

_—but must report it—_

_—self-defense, possibly—_

__

_—why a gun?—_

_—tell them—_

__

_—too risky—_

_—don’t tell them—_

  
“No.”

He cursed himself for blurting it out loud. This was why people planned for things, Warren.

“No, sir. I had nothing to do with this,” he confirmed.

Principal Wells didn’t look too convinced, but he was slightly—relieved? “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Warren managed, though his throat was drying out. _Fuck it._

But something kept riling up questions in his ever-curious brain. 

How could they accuse _him_ of such a thing?

Wells heaved a sigh. But before he could speak, Warren cut in. “Sir, I just have to ask, uh, how was it you _knew_ it was just a false alarm?”

The Principal eyed him as if the question provoked him. “There wasn’t a fire, and there was shattered glass in the girls’ bathroom—”

If Warren was raised in any other way, he would’ve smirked at this thought. But his father raised him well. He wasn’t an asshole. So, he just pressed his lips together and took an interest at his feet.

Bathrooms separated by gender were by no means a mystery to anybody, and if he was being honest, this whole thing challenged his mind’s gymnastics abilities to the point where he was just speechless.

Wells cleared his throat, awkwardly and impatiently. “I apologize. The discrepancy of my statements came off as… _petty_.”

Yeah, well—no shit.

How the hell can Warren trust _this_ guy with the whole Nathan shebang?

“But do tell us this,” said Wells, the sour leaving his tone. “Why did you join the rest of your class so late?”

Okay, then. C’mon, Warren. Think of an excuse, something— _anything_.

“I was stuck in one of the bathroom stalls, sir,” he said. “I had to, uh, climb out. That’s why I was the last to go out.” Warren wanted to punch himself in the face. But that was convincing enough, right? It was partially true.

“Why were you stuck in one of the stalls?”

“Someone locked me in from outside, sir. When the alarm went off.”

So much lying today, huh? He was surprised no one saw through his charade. 

“Do you have any idea who could it have been?”

Warren merely shook his head. There was technically nobody to accuse.

“I see.” Principal Wells sounded tired. “We’ll look into the matter of students making fun of their fellow—”

“ _No_ ,” Warren snapped, then immediately recoiled. “I mean, I’m sorry, but it’s okay. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Mr. Graham, as Principal of Blackwell Academy, I take the well-being of my students seriously.”

Warren almost laughed. He called bullshit on this.

If Principal Wells truly cared, then Kate wouldn’t have to walk around campus grounds with puffy eyes and the life drained from her. Daniel wouldn’t have to be forcibly strung along by any of the asshole jocks on the football team.

Warren didn’t have to choose to be invisible to stay safe.

“It’s alright, sir,” said Warren, getting exhausted at how it pathetic it sounded. “It’s not that big of a deal. I got out of there, didn’t I? And… I’m sorry if this is rude of me, but shouldn’t you be investigating other students as well if you really want to find out who triggered the alarm?”

Wells knitted his eyebrows together.

“I’ll… consider the suggestion, Mr. Graham,” he said. “I apologize again for the inconvenience, but that will be all.”

Warren could almost sigh in repose.

“Mr. Madsen will escort you now.”

Warren bowed his head for a second before David Madsen stepped beside him, a grouchy expression imprinted on his face. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” said Madsen when they were out of the Principal’s office. Warren was taken aback. “I don’t know what you kids are up to these days, and I apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have accused you like that. My concern is for the safety of all Blackwell students, including you.”

Warren’s hand gravitated to the back of his head. “I gotta be honest, Mr. Madsen—”

“David,” he said. “Just David is fine.”

“Uh, right. Okay. Gotcha,” said Warren as smoothly as sand paper. “I wouldn’t say it’s okay, but I kind of understand where you’re coming from, sir. But we’re not all up to something bad, and—well, you don’t have to take my word for it. I know you want to protect us all, because it is your responsibility as head of Security, after all, but I sometimes agree with Miss Grant. And her, y’know.” Warren vaguely waved a hand. “Petition.”

“Do you even know what’s going on around here? It will take more than Ms. Grant and her ‘petition’ to find missing students.” 

“I can’t say I do, sir, because no one really talks about it seriously.”

David glared at him. “If I didn’t care about anybody here, I wouldn’t care at all.”

Warren sucked in a breath. “I get your reasons for wanting to put surveillance all around campus, but wouldn’t that incite more fear to the staff? And to the students?”

“At least we know what goes on inside this school.”

Warren pressed his lips together to keep himself from asking anything that’s too prying. “Does this have anything to do with Rachel Amber?”

“Yes,” David simply said. “If we had other sets of eyes keeping watch, we would’ve found her by now.”

It had never been a thought that occurred to Warren that David Madsen, of all people, would actually care about Rachel Amber.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, sir, but… do you know anything about her that nobody else does?”

“She was close to my stepdaughter, that’s all. Stick your nose somewhere else, kid,” said David. Ouch. Warren wrinkled his nose. 

Stepdaughter, huh? He has a stepdaughter? 

“I’m sorry,” said Warren. “But that tells me you know more than you let on.”

David glanced his way, a permanent scrunch between his bushy brows. “So does Kate Marsh.”

“Kate?” Warren’s brow rose at the subject change and a mention of Kate’s name. “Why would you say that?”

“Is she part of the Vortex club?”

“No,” Warren spoke without missing a beat. “I don’t think so, at least. Because think about it, sir. She wouldn’t arrange those Bible studies if she was already into planning and organizing parties, nor would she be so distressed after… the video.”

David full-on scowled. “Have you even seen the video? She looked like she was—”

“—Out of it. She was definitely out of it. Kate would never do something like that. She’s not that kind of person, regardless of what people might’ve said behind her back.” Warren chewed on the inside of his cheek. “At least I think so.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Kate is one of the sweetest and kindest people I’ve ever met. I think from what you’ve accused of me today, you could learn a thing or two about not jumping to conclusions so easily.”

David looked angry.

Warren wanted to slip into the cracks on the floor. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just…”

But David wasn’t mad at him. It’s like he was thinking of something beyond what Warren could perceive. Though, it could just be Warren’s mind playing tricks on him, but it seemed like… a veil was removed from David’s eyes and now they had a certain clarity to them. Of understanding.

“I get it,” he said. “And you’re right. When I was your age, I was out raising a lot more hell. She’s better than that. All you kids are.”

“Thanks, David,” said Warren, not really knowing why. “Kate is not one to party, nor—fling herself at those guys willingly. I’d say… I’d say to try hearing her side first, sir.”

“I’ll see to it, kid.”

“Uh, please don’t call me that.”

David just shrugged a shoulder.

Warren sighed. “Alright. Suit yourself, sir.”

“ _David_.”

“Okay, David."

  


* * *

  


Nathan sure as hell didn’t want those dickhead jocks, Logan and Zachary, or that… whoever that bitch was, sitting on the bench, to spot him talking to someone on the phone.

Whatever Jefferson was going to say, nobody but Nathan had the right to hear it.

He jogged around to the far side of the building—where, if he looked to his left, he’d see a giant-ass tree surrounded by well-kept bushes—as casually as he could to avoid arousing suspicion. After his bubbling anxiety was at least delayed of getting worse when the fresh afternoon air reached his face, and he was certain he was the only one in the vicinity, he answered the ironically _Unknown_ number.

” _Nathan _,” addressed the distorted voice.__

__“What do you want?”_ _

____

“ _Are you sober?_ ”

Nathan wheezed. “Yeah…?”

“ _High?_ ”

“No.”

“ _Then great, because we need to discuss the situation with Kate Marsh._ ”

Fucking hell. Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about it?”

“ _After the stunt surrounding the viral video, there’s a good chance that people will see beyond her unusual behavior at the party and start prying for more information. Information that, you and I very well know should remain confidential. Of course, that wouldn’t have been a problem if_ you _hadn’t_ fucked up _in the first place._ ”

Nathan’s jaw clenched tight. “Well, _I’m_ sorry, but it’s not my fucking fault people started pulling their phones out and started recording her _making out_ with a bunch of dudes.”

“ _You seem to have forgotten about my lessons in keeping things_ strictly _for business purposes only._ ” He clicked his tongue on the other end. “ _But it’s alright, Nathan. What matters now—is_ silencing _her._ ”

Nathan scowled at the grass. “And how would we do that, exactly?”

“ _For one, your part in moving the focus away from the bigger, more obvious picture and onto the façade you’ve tricked others into thinking about Miss Marsh—I have to say, while risky, is rather remarkable on your part. You’ve proven yourself to possess the ability to think on your feet, despite the irresponsibility that could’ve caused us a great deal. I’m proud of you, Nathan._ ”

The compliment made Nathan hate himself more for liking how it sounded. He uselessly fought to bite back his appreciation. 

“Thanks,” he said anyway. “So, how the hell are we supposed to silence her or some shit?”

“ _Simple._ I _will keep her from coming forward with her allegations, and you will carry on as usual. Should be easy enough, considering her newfound loneliness after being abandoned by her friends and shunned by her family._ ”

Nathan almost felt bad for Kate.

Almost.

“So, that’s it?”

“ _Mostly, yes,_ ” said Jefferson, and Nathan dreaded the dragging conversation.

Before the line clicked off, a final reminder had made him wish that this day had never come into fruition.

“ _Don’t fuck this up anymore, or else._ ”

He didn’t need to continue that, because Nathan knew exactly what he meant.

Shoving his disposable phone back to the pocket he took it out from, he exasperatedly lolled his head back, the top of his skull making impact to the wall behind him. It didn’t bother him; in fact, the pain at least cooled off some of his rage—not enough to completely calm it, but enough to ground him. He gazed at the sky bleeding more oranges and reds than blues. 

No God would provide him guidance nor forgiveness for all the fucked-up shit he had done—something he already accepted long ago. 

Jefferson didn’t need to know. About Chloe, or this unresolved mystery regarding someone who knew too much about something that shouldn’t even concern them.

He pushed off of the wall. Victoria was waiting, and he didn’t want to have to waste her time.

That was, when he emerged from the side—Warren fucking Graham was right there, looking just as surprised as he was.

“Uh… Hello…?” greeted Warren, and the way he _greeted_ just urged Nathan to want to punch the damn wall.

What the fuck did this nerd want?

  


* * *

  


When the whole ordeal was over, David went on his way, leaving Warren at the front of the school overlooking the courtyard, right back where he came out of this weird fucking day, after the whole thing with Nathan. 

Well… he thought that Madsen actually wasn’t that much of a dick as everybody thought. He was written off as an asshole, when he was just a man with a troubled mind. Servicing in war wasn’t a joke—soldiers had to come back to their respective countries after their brains had been riddled with trauma from the pain of killing, and the pain of being killed.

But then again, that wasn’t an excuse for them to simply lash out on people because the mental chaos they bore sometimes spilled over like the contents of an agitated soda can. That’s what professionals were for.

And he knew _something_ about Rachel Amber. Warren couldn’t say he was surprised (just a bit), but that was something. 

That really told him that David had more than what he was playing out with his cards.

And, fuck. He forgot to ask him about his stepdaughter. But was that really any of his business?

Warren sighed to himself. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Brisk air blew into his face as he made his way to the dormitories. He wondered if Nathan would be there, whether he’d have to knock into his dorm to talk to him. Would Nathan even talk to him? Even that seemed too far-fetched. 

And _if_ Nathan did respond, what the heck would Warren say? After what happened in the Principal’s office, Warren figured devising a plan would benefit him, especially when it came to confronting Nathan.

…Who was nowhere to be seen. Dang. Warren figured he must’ve been inside the dorms or something.

He thought that now was a good time to think of something to say. Besides, Zachary and Logan were playing, and he had to have an excuse to not deal with those dicks. So much shit was already going on, and he didn’t want them to add any more inconveniences on top of Warren’s unsolved ones.

Out of desperation, he followed a squirrel headed towards the far end of the building, to the gap beside Samuel’s shed. To be fair, the thought was balls to the wall _absurd_ , but it wasn’t like he expected the squirrel to respond. Like… Nathan was going to respond.

Definitely not. The sliver of hope of getting Nathan to talk to him practically had the same probability as finding a pumpkin patch in a randomly generated Minecraft world. Rarer than diamonds. 

Which he could’ve just been mining for if he didn’t feel like he had a part to play in this mess.

He needed a book on _Improving your Social Skills_ or something. Was there a manual, or, like, a guide to talking to resident rich kid, Nathan Prescott—

—Who walked out of the same place Warren was going to.

What even were plans anymore?

And, like the brilliant scientist Warren was, he began with, “Uh… Hello…?”

Nathan shot him a glare so intense Warren wanted to evaporate like vapor and provide himself as rainwater to the grass. Not a great start.

“The fuck do you want?”

But, hey, now that they were face-to-face, Warren could ask him. Should he though? No. Bad idea. Miss Grant said to not use it as an opener.

Crap. The way Nathan was staring at him? Not helping.

“Nice… weather we’re having, huh?”

Warren wished the absolute opposite—that it was stormy and _awful_ so that the Gods could strike him down with a lightning bolt.

Nathan eyed him so incredulously it was almost as ludicrous as a scene from a comic book. “Whatever bullshit you want from me, you can stick it up your ass, Graham,” he said, ramming into Warren’s shoulder, shoving past him.

“Wait, wait—no—” Warren grabbed a hold of Nathan’s arm.

Big mistake.

“ _Don’t_ fucking touch me.” Nathan spoke with such a chill tone it was like a growl, and Warren let go, feeling like a blizzard froze him solid on the spot. “If you ever dare to do that again, I will skin you alive and feed that shit to the crows. You better watch your fucking back.”

Warren winced. The mental image that painted was rather disturbing. But…

“I’m sorry, man,” was all Warren could say.

“Well, go fuck yourself, _man_ ,” said Nathan. “Go find someone else to small talk or chat up the squirrels like that fucking lunatic, Samuel.”

Then, he walked back to the dormitories, getting farther and farther like Warren’s chances of ever getting him to talk again.

Rude. Samuel was cool, okay? He was just… weird. 

And it’s like he _knew_ he was going to have a one-way talk with a squirrel. How the hell?

But, then, the gun…

Warren ran after him, almost stumbling despite himself.

Damn. Too late. The first floor corridor was empty, and looking to his left gave him the idea that Nathan’s room just locked shut from the door clicking closed. The thought of _knocking_ alone could probably land him a lawsuit, and Warren didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

What a great Monday, today was.

Well, now that he was here, he might as well grab his flash drive from Dana; the one which she borrowed from him last night. It was something his mind distracted him with, and his prized possession of _movie-booties_ entertained him, anyway. He was sure to need it after this insane day.

  


* * *

  


Okay, what the _fuck_ was going on today?

Out of everybody in this Black _hell_ , Nathan never expected Warren motherfucking Graham. They never talk. Ever. Fucking bastard was a smartass who stuck his head in textbooks and could go places with his 4.0 GPA like it was a walk in the damn park. 

Nathan came to a close there (and yes, that was through his own hard work, not everything had to be paid off by his family’s money), but the point was—he talked to him. Talk—was asking a dumb-ass question about the fucking weather even considered a _talk_?

In a million years, Nathan would probably let that conversation drag. But now? Fuck no.

He paused.

Wait…

Did Graham hear anything with the conversation he had with that sick teacher, Jefferson?

God. The quarrelling thoughts set his nerves on fire.

If that fucking nerd heard _anything_ —

Shit. Fuck, okay. 

He stood at his dorm room, and took a deep breath.

_It’s cool, Nathan. Victoria comes first._

With a rehearsed poker face, the door to his room swung open. He took a great care in not slamming it until it rattled the walls like a tambourine. For once.

Victoria laid on his bed, preoccupied with something on her tablet. As soon as she heard the Nathan enter, she twisted her neck to face him. “Oh, hey, Nate.”

“Sorry about that, gorgeous,” said Nathan. 

“Eh, I don’t mind. So,” she turned her tablet off and sat up, “are you going to tell me why you’re concerned about the girls running their mouths or some shit?”

Ah, shit. He forgot about that.

“Don’t tell me _it’s nothing_ ,” she said. “You told me you were going to say why.”

Well, fuck. He was going to brush it off, considering the flurry of _backasswards_ events happening on top of one another. That was a word.

His shoulders shot up to his ears. 

Victoria was perplexed, but unsurprised as she sighed.

Nathan hated hiding things from her.

But he needed an excuse.

“Kate.”

“What?” Victoria whipped her head to Nathan. “What about that slut?”

He wasn’t sure why he said her name. “…You know I hooked her up, right? In the party?”

“Uh… yeah?”

He sat himself beside her. “And you know what’ll happen if I get busted, don’t you?”

Victoria furrowed her brows in concern. “Are the… are the police on your—”

“Hell no. A fucking _cockroach_ might be more useful than the cops in this hellhole of a town. They can’t do shit to me.”

She wrung her hands together. “Unless they have evidence.”

“…Yeah.”

Nathan let her process the situation, gathering as much patience as he could even though his perpetually bouncing leg showed otherwise.

“So… you’re saying…”

“I’m _saying_ ,” he pressed, “that she might have something for the police. If she tells them _anything_ —”

Her hand weighed down on his shoulder. “I get it, Nate. It’s all in the video. She _is_ a viral slut, after all.”

He chuckled. He didn’t know why, either. “Yeah.”

They only called her a _slut_ because nobody knew _exactly_ what had happened that night.

“Look, I might be asking for too much, but—”

“Hey. Leave it to me.” She looked at him with those eyes he could trust. “I got your back, and know exactly what to do.”

As silly as it was, Nathan really released the breath he was holding in. ‘Thanks, Vic.”

“No problem, Nate.” She offered a reassuring smile.

Not that it had that effect on him, but he appreciated her for it.

“Now,” she grabbed her tablet and presented it to Nathan. “I got to get a new camera soon, and I cannot, for the life of me, choose which one of these is…”

Good. Nathan’s mind was preoccupied. He liked photography. 

Not that _that_ would ease the burden on his shoulders that slouched him every day, but he sure liked recommending the good shit.

  


* * *

  


The second floor of the dormitories wasn’t as vacant as Warren would’ve liked it so.

“You can’t get out now, Dana! So tell me the truth, or rot in there!”

Warren could think, hypothetically, about the answers to some of the most complicated scientific questions and solve some of the most complex mathematical equations, but God forbid he understand girls, or the drama that went on in Blackwell.

He took a breath from his (hideously) expanding nose, and walked up to Juliet Watson. “Uh, hey there, Juliet.”

“What are you doing here, Warren?” said Juliet, or more like… whined. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Science Lab, doing some science-y shit?”

Wow. Okay. “Hey, that’s not _all_ I do,” said Warren. “Besides, I kind of need, uh, something from Dana.”

“Well, your luck is shit, because Dana sure isn’t getting out of here unless she _admits_ to _sexting her best friend’s boyfriend!_ ”

“ _I swear I didn’t do_ anything!” Dana pleaded from her room. “ _But I bet Victoria did!_ ”

High school drama. Warren stopped himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you… _sure_ Dana sexted your boyfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Juliet scoffed. “According to Victoria, she’d do anything to date a quarterback.”

Warren wasn’t mind boggled about the whole sexting stuff (he’d rather focus on his studies), but the fact of how Dana was locked _inside_ her _own_ room. This _was_ Dana’s room, right?

He focused on something else, so as to not rile up any more trouble. “I mean, aren’t you… a reporter? I think you could hear it from all sides before you, y’know, blame your best friend.”

Warren cringed at how straightforward that sounded.

“Okay, I do _not_ have to hear this shit. Victoria _saw_ the sext, and Zachary won’t answer his phone.”

Warren didn’t want to be an ass, but he couldn’t deal with this right now. He needed his flash drive. “Because he’s just right outside the dorms, playing with Logan.”

Juliet glared at him. If it wasn’t for Nathan’s death glare earlier, he would have been killed by hers. “Like hell I’ll believe you,” she spat.

“Well, uh… I saw him myself, if you’re wondering. You could see for yourself and prove me wrong.”

When her phone didn’t receive a call response, she groaned in frustration. “Fine, _fine_. God. I’ll do it.”

Warren just idiotically nodded his head, and Juliet stormed off, her boots stomping along the hallway.

He could finally breathe and be at peace.

“Uh, Dana?” He knocked at her door. “Can I come in?”

A muffled, “Sure,” from the other side, and she swung it open.

  


* * *

  


As they exited Nathan’s room, with the sun similarly departing from the horizon, Nathan came along with Victoria.

“You don’t have to walk me back, Nate.”

He shot his shoulders up. “Dunno. You never know.”

…that peace could be as difficult to build as a skyscraper, but could be so easily dismantled like a sand sculpture.

“It’s just to my dorm,” said Victoria.

“Look, it’s not a big deal to be careful, alright?” said Nathan, a bit more heated than he meant. Fuck. “Besides, I kind of forgot something in your room.”

Their footsteps echoed in the unfilled space of the staircase. “…Your photo from yesterday?”

“Uh, yep.”

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” she drawled. “But after that, you got to rest, okay?”

“No, I—”

“No arguing.” She turned to face him as they reached the top of the stairs. “Once I lock my door, you’re going back to your room and stay there, no questions asked.”

Nathan sighed. “Okay.”

“Good.”

The door leading to the girls’ dormitories harshly swung open, revealing a rather _pissed_ off Juliet emerging from the other side.

“ _Hi, Juliet!_ ” Victoria beamed in a sing-song voice like she never meant to be friendly. “What happened between you and your _backstabbing_ BFF?”

“Fuck off, Victoria,” she snapped, brushing past Victoria. “I’m going to hear it from Zachary himself.”

“What, was the sexting not enough proof to you?” Victoria called out, but got no response as Juliet most likely ignored her.

She cackled as she entered the girls’ dormitories, and Nathan couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“That’s what you fucking get, cunt,” she said. 

They continued on to Room 221, wordlessly deciding to just continue on any budding conversations somewhere more private.

  


* * *

  


Warren closed the door to Dana’s room.

See? She had to open it herself as it was _locked_ from the _inside_. She’d get out anyway, regardless of whether Juliet “let her out” or not.

The logic was just… so _off_.

With Dana’s forehead supported by the base of her palm and how her shoulders drooped as she sat on her bed, he figured that she was tired and stressed from all of this.

“You okay?” he asked, even though he thought it was stupid.

“I’ve been better,” she said. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think you’re someone who’ll do something like that to her best friend.”

“That’s sweet, Warren. Seriously. Thanks again.”

“How’d you know it was Victoria, anyway? Hope that wasn’t, uh…” he shrugged. “Too… invasive.”

“Funny you asked that. I’m in the Vortex club, but just because they are too, doesn’t mean they’re BFFs. Victoria creeps me out. You’re smart to not hang around with people here, just because.”

Warren chuckled. “You make it sound like I don’t want to be around people, but it’d be cool if I could. But… yeah. I get what you mean.”

Dana hummed in agreement. “Anyway, you’re not really here to small talk, are you? Your flash drive’s over there, still on my laptop.”

“Oh. Right.” Warren turned towards her desk. “Yeah, I’ll go get it. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

After getting what he needed, they exchanged their _thank yous_ , and he left the room.

  


* * *

  


“By the way, this is a really good shot,” said Victoria, awestruck by the black and white photo she was inspecting in her hand. “When did you take this again?”

Nathan took a good look at it, and remembered the fallen blue jay’s birds’ nest with the eggs still inside. None of them had been spared by the imminent harm. 

He recalled getting so giddy that his face ached from smiling when he saw the opportunity, and he couldn’t have been happier to take it.

“Last Thursday,” he said. “The timing was fucking golden. It was sunset, near the forest. I got better shadows that way.”

Victoria only hummed in response.

Nathan felt pride swelling up inside his chest.

“Are you going to add this to your portfolio?”

Nathan took it from her grip. “Yeah.”

Victoria sighed as she threw her head back on the edge of her bed. Nathan watched her from where he was on the floor.

“I hope Mr. Jefferson picks _me_ as the winner.”

Nathan hoped he wouldn’t.

He’d rather light himself on fire and deal with the excruciating pain—than let that sick fucker get his hands on Victoria. 

After what happened to Rachel, he…

“Hey,” he nudged her knee with a closed fist. “You don’t need a content to prove you’re fucking skilled and talented, Vic.”

“I get that, but winning that contest will really push my career, Nate. You know that. My work will be put up in galleries, and I’d officially be recognized as an artist.” She twirled her fingers around themselves. “And I’ll get to go to San Francisco with Mark.”

Nathan would kill to drink a bottle of cyanide. 

“I stand by what I said,” he told her instead. 

He understood her admiration for Jefferson, but she was one of the people who only saw the sheep’s clothing he wore over the wolf he truly was.

Long, and seemingly endless debates of whether or not he should be upfront to her about it clashed inside his mind, but he always circled back to the conclusion that it would never have a satisfying ending.

Hiding certain things from people, in this case, would guarantee their safety. It’s not absolute, Nathan knew that. But the last thing he wanted was to have nobody but himself to blame if she ever got involved in any of this shit.

Victoria just sighed. 

“I’m not fucking with you, Vic.”

“I know you aren’t, Nate. And thanks for believing in me.”

This was exactly why.

Dealing with Jefferson was like participating in a game of blackjack.

Going over 21 would result in a bust. So, Nathan had to play his cards right.

Because if he didn’t, the dealer would win regardless of the dealer’s hand.

He could only get _close_ to that number.

But he’d never have luck on his side.

“Alright,” said Nathan, unfolding his legs. “Gotta go, gorgeous.”

“Go relax, okay, Nate?” she reminded him.

He almost laughed.

When you gamble in that card game, you don’t go against other players.

You compete against the house.

No matter how hard Nathan would try to get anywhere near 21, he would only find his inevitable demise of getting busted.

_I wish, Victoria. I really fucking wish I can just relax._

“Sure,” he told her anyway.

She waved him off, and he left her room.

Trying to get a hold of his breathing, he slumped his head on her closed door. That was something he could at least control in his ragged life that always threatened to burst or rip at the seams.

Speaking of out of control…

Why was he always running into this nerd?

  


* * *

  


Finally. Warren got some time alone. With his movies preferably. Maybe he might do another Lord of the Rings marathon. Or a Back to the Future one. Or a—

…blue butterfly.

Leading him somewhere, once again.

…All the way to the unoccupied Room 219, next to the showers, its mesmerizingly minatory blue wings flapping casually.

His curiosity got the better of him.

To his surprise, the room was unlocked. Maybe Samuel forgot to…

…lock it.

Paper lanterns hung around the wall next to the bed, tens of polaroid photos adorning the otherwise plain-looking wall. Looking down, there was a welcoming mat that said _Keep Calm and Carry On_ that crowned itself at his feet. Posters, portraits and outputs of photography covered most of the space of the surrounding walls. It was messy, but was still lived in that the owner might know where everything was better than just about anybody.

A girl stood in front of a table on the far end of the room with her head tilted down. 

“…Hello?”

Her head rose. Then, she turned around to face him.

“Who… who are you?”

No response.

He could make out her short brown hair, her shirt that looked like it had a deer print on it, her light gray jacket, her generic pair of jeans, and her pair of sneakers.

But he couldn’t make out her face. It was like everything was in 720p resolution while her face was in 144p—completely blurred out.

The blue butterfly circled around her as she approached him, stopping just short at the middle of the room.

It landed on her outstretched finger. She put her hand closer to her mouth, as if she was whispering something to it. And, as if the butterfly understood, it flapped its strikingly blue wings in response.

Warren had never been more freaked out by his morbid curiosity.

  


_Hey—_

Who was this person?

  


_Graham._

Why was she here?

  


_I'm talking to you._

What—

” _Hey!_ ”

Warren almost gagged his heart out.

“I’m talking to you, you fucking _prick_.”

Warren’s eyes blew open wide.

“Nathan?” With the desert seemingly forming in his throat, it was a miracle he was still able to talk.

“You having a fucking seizure or something?”

“Huh?” Warren blinked. “No.”

“Then what are you standing around here for?”

“I was—”

The room was suddenly completely empty. No more photographs. Nothing more of the warm, lived-in atmosphere.

It was as bland as the first time he remembered their house when it had just been built.

The butterfly went missing.

Holy shit. That’s so creepy.

“Fucking around in an empty room?” Nathan scoffed. “Jesus, get your head out of the clouds, you look like you just got as high as a motherfucking kite.”

Warren scrunched his nose. “I don’t do drugs.”

“Didn’t say you _did_. You look like you never even had a shot of baby aspirin.”

Warren was about to say something, when he closed his mouth and thought better of it. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

Nathan scowled. “None of your business.”

“Fine. I thought _you_ told me to back off, and now you’re the one—”

A firm forearm crossing over Warren’s chest knocked the wind out of him. His back hurt when it crashed against the wall, where the collection of polaroid photos used to be.

He was still pretty shaken by that.

“ _Nobody_ tells me what to do.” There Nathan’s cold tone was again. “I told you not to mess with me. You better watch your fucking mouth.”

Warren tried putting his arms up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I gotcha.”

Nathan didn’t seem satisfied with this as he pressed Warren into the wall harder. “You say _anything_ , and I mean _anything_ to _anyone_ , you’re best off sleeping with one eye open, bitch. I know where you sleep."

Shit. Oh, fucking hell.

Did Nathan know that Warren knew about—

“Are we _fucking clear_?”

“Yes.” Warren cleared his throat. “Yeah, we are."

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Nathan released Warren, and left the room with a huff.

Warren was terrified out of his mind.

But he’d be okay.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he left the room as well, double-checking the corridor so as to not encounter Nathan again.

He did _not_ want to deal with the guy with issues.

  


* * *

  


The issue, according to Nathan, was resolved.

That was, if his threat worked.

Then sure. The problem was solved.

For now.

What Warren would do next was… ungovernable.

And that shit scared Nathan to death.

Unlocking his room, he rushed to lock it as he went inside, and flopped down on his bed.

 _Carry on as usual_ , Jefferson told him. That’s right. He just needed to stay put.

God, he knew things were fucked-up when he was looking to that psychopath’s words for consolation. That didn’t make any fucking sense.

He hated it when things didn’t make any sense.

 _In control_. That’s how he liked it, and he was never going to let that go.

  


* * *

  


“Uh, hello?”

“ _Warren, honey, I have something for you. And we need to talk about something. Could you come to the Science Lab?_ ”

That couldn’t be good.

“Uh, for sure, Miss Grant.” Ditching his plans to go back to his dorm, he headed for the exit. “I’ll be on my way.”

“ _That’s good to hear._ ” The line clicked off, and he shoved his phone into his front pocket. 

The pleasing smell of fresh air instantaneously reached his nose as he went outside.

He knew he could just take his time, but seeing as he had no other plans. Even better that there was almost nobody else there.

Except Alyssa.

“Hey, there, lovely person,” said Warren.

“Hey, there, nerdy person,” returned Alyssa.

“Woah, that’s… a new one.” He frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Fantastic. I’m by myself reading chick-lit. Pretty soon I’ll be bonding with Victoria at the Vortex Club.”

Naturally, Warren’s drifted towards his nape. “Ah, well, I hope it doesn’t have to come to that.”

“Hopefully. Anyway, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Then, I’ll get back to… doing whatever it is I’m doing.”

She hummed a deadpan tune. 

“Have a good one, Lys.”

“You, too, Warr.”

Well, that was awkward. Why did that just happen? Why was that there?

Choosing to just shrug it off, he made his way to the exit of the dormitory grounds, leading to the rest of the… school…

“…sure you’re not a part of it?”

That sounded… familiar.

“I told you. I’m not part of the club, and I never will be.”

That, too.

“Your face is covered in guilt. How will I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I already told you. Just please, leave me alone.”

“Kate!” Warren called out on a whim. 

God help him. 

He stepped away from the brick wall and fully exposed himself to her and… David. “I was just wondering where you were!”

“…Warren?” Kate had this doe-eyed look at him. 

David scowled at him, like he always did. “Excuse us, this is official campus business—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Ma— uh, David, I didn’t mean to intrude, but Miss Grant needed us for something.” Okay, hold the phone—what the fuck was Warren saying?

David grumbled. Probably. “Can’t that wait until I’m done with her?”

“No, not really, sir.” Warren rubbed the bridge of his nose out of sheer nervosity. “And we _should_ be having civil conversations instead of jumping to conclusions, don’t you think?”

Fuck. If looks could do such a thing, David was going to have Warren’s head.

But he needed to get Kate _out of there_ before things get any heated.

“I’m so sorry, David, but you know Miss Grant. She gets pretty… uh, _nasty_ when students are late for class. Or for something.” He placed a careful but hopefully reassuring hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I’ve been there.”

Well, shit, he needed to get out there _now_.

“Uh, let’s go, Kate. Can’t keep Miss Grant waiting, am I right?” He nudged her gently, and she got the message. She walked alongside him. “Thank you, anyway, David.”

When Warren was sure they were a good distance away from anywhere near David, it was him who broke the silence first.

“Are you okay, Kate?”

“Yeah,” she said, or almost breathed. “Yeah, I am. Oh, Warren, that was great. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, swatting the air in front of him. “I got your back, Kate.”

“Does Miss Grant really need to see me?”

Warren chuckled. “No. Just me. I just needed to find a good enough excuse to get you out of there.”

A soft smile graced her face. “Are you serious? Thank you so much.”

“And you’re always welcome, Kate,” said Warren. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, but I was wondering if you could walk with me?”

“…To the Science Lab?”

“Sure! If—that’s… not too much trouble. I get it if you have somewhere—”

“No, actually.”

Warren blinked owlishly at her. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Kate intertwined her fingers. “I was going to… go… somewhere, but… I’ll walk with you.”

Warren beamed. "Cool!"

And alas, they sure did.

  


* * *

  


Nathan needed to be somewhere else other than _here_.

Today, for some reason, the stillness of his room made his mind race a hundred miles an hour. It was fucking ridiculous.

But he was likely more familiar with the most outlandish of circumstances than anybody else in this god-forsaken town. 

He needed the fresh air. Otherwise, he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He knew what Victoria said about staying in his room and “resting” but— _sorry, Vic_ —he couldn’t rest for shit. He let his feet carry him to the exit of the dormitories, and the cool air kissed his face as he set foot on the grounds.

He often wondered if this were one of the only things that could touch him with courteous goodwill. Something only the nature could provide. 

Nowhere near to be found with the people who bordered on unpredictability.

Oddly enough, he had that proven.

Since Warren was there again.

Talking… to Kate Marsh and David Madsen.

Jesus, he lost count how many times he’s crossed paths with this motherfucker.

Nathan watched from a reasonable distance. He could tell they were conversing about something, but he couldn’t hear anything. He crept along the wall of the Secretary’s office farthest away from the gate so as to not attract attention to himself.

After some time, Nathan noticed that they had all disappeared from his view, so he sneaked to the gate and peeked out of it to figure out what was happening. 

Madsen was nowhere to be found, and Kate and Warren were walking towards the main campus.

Next thing Nathan knew, he was following after them.

He didn’t know why.

  


* * *

  


Warren hadn’t been aware that Kate also had a preference for bitter things, much like his love for straight-up black coffee. But she, however, liked to drink more tea. Huh. 

“You know, the last time I tried green tea, it tasted like… how the air smelled when my dad was mowing our lawn,” said Warren, scrunching his face in disgust. “Ew.”

Kate laughed softly. “That’s probably because you put boiling water on it.”

“I guess…? I mean, that’s what I do with my coffee.”

“Tea is different from coffee, Warren. You’re only supposed to put hot water onto the teabag. Hot enough to steep the tea leaves, but not any hotter to scald them.”

“Oh.” The realization loomed on him. “ _Oh._ ”

She gave him a crooked smile. “It’s okay. Take it all in.”

But a smile was still a smile, that was already a lot for Warren. He gladly appreciated it.

“All this time… I have been burning my tea…” he said mournfully. “Please forgive me, my queen!” He made an entire show with an over-the-top accent and even had the courage to bow at her in lieu of respect.

Kate shook her head. “You are so silly.” 

The walk to the main campus was very short, but like a small piece of candy—very sweet. No bullshit located here. Just two people having a friendly, mundane, totally random chat.

Warren hadn’t seen a… _hopeful_ look on Kate’s face in a while.

Even though it was only a week ago before shit hit the fan… that was still a long enough time to miss something.

They stopped short at the Science lab.

“Welp,” Warren spoke.

“Go do your thing, Warren,” said Kate. “I’m sorry I can’t be here longer—”

“No, no, it’s okay—”

“—but I have to go. I’m sure Miss Grant needs you for something.”

“Oh, right.” Warren set his hand on the doorknob, before looking back at Kate one more time. “Thanks for walking with me, Kate. I appreciate your company.”

She smiled. Sadness still lingered from the way it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

But like a budding flower, its beauty was still something to behold.

And Warren was more than okay with that.

  


* * *

  


Partway through trailing after Viral Slut and Beta Nerd…

Shit. They didn’t really do anything, did they?

Use their names, Nathan. They have those. 

Their names deserved to be used.

…Partway through trailing after Kate and Warren…

Despite being quite distant from them, Nathan could remember the last time he’d seen the darkness extinguishing the light out of her spirit.

About a week ago.

Before that one Vortex club party she had attended last Friday, October 4. 

And everybody else she considered a “friend” in this hellhole decided to fuck off from her life.

He guessed… they weren’t that far off from being so similar.

So, for some holy fucking cause…

Gratitude meticulously wormed its way into his chest, like a vine desperate to grow, but was mindful of the consequences of being detected.

He was actually… fucking… _happy_ about… what Graham did.

Despite his… necessary intervention of setting up the entire school to stab her in the back, just to save his own incompetent skin.

That feeling of being happy?

That was him being a hypocrite.

Nathan Prescott was a fucking _hypocrite_.

Was he surprised? Not at all.

But he was just… 

He ran his fingers through his hair.

Why did seeing someone treat Kate decently make him… feel relieved?

...After what he’d done to her?

Fuck. He didn’t need this right now. He was already thinking of a shitload of self-sabotaging situations. There were more to come in some other days.

Now that that was out of the way, he ultimately decided to just mind his own business when he saw them enter the main campus. That wasn’t where he was headed, anyway. Besides, he didn’t want anybody fucking around with his business, so why would he stick his nose into someone else’s?

He wasn’t really like that.

He could only wish others were like that, too.

Sitting on the first bench he stumbled upon (that was nearest the dorms), he skimmed through the photos he’d taken all throughout the week. They weren’t that many, but it was mainly because he couldn’t find a worthy enough photo op to take the shot. He couldn’t just mindlessly aim at things and hope the shadows would highlight certain parts of the subject’s face.

But _always take the shot_ , as Jefferson practically ingrained into his brain. Fucking…

He sighed to himself.

Twilight was approaching. The sun was already retreating under the horizon. The moon was going to make an appearance any time soon, and the world would soon succumb to the night’s impending darkness.

But before that… something bizarre materialized.

  


* * *

  


Warren peered outside the Science lab window.

White specks of only the most fantastical of instances delicately glittered from the heavens.

As he recalled it, the month was October. 

_What the…?_

  


* * *

  


_…fuck?_

Nathan caught a snowflake in his palm.

Its cold pinprick never lingered, for it had dissipated away into his skin.

_Why was it… snowing?_

Nathan perked his head up, attempting to seek an answer to a question that would simply remain a mystery.

This day—

  


* * *

  


—just kept getting—

  


* * *

  


—stranger—

  


* * *

  


  


—and stranger.


End file.
